Mostly, Life Has Been

what I thought should happen,

what I longed to see happen,

what I expected might happen,

not happening at all. Sometimes

maybe, yes it resembles, 

but rarely closely, 

what I hoped for, 

what I feared,

what I caused others to hope for,

what I caused others to fear.

Perhaps the daily bread

we pray for is more,

but not less, than

another day’s survival.

What if it’s letting go to receive

the manna of what is, 

both the disappointment

and the gift of it,

both the limits of intuition

and surprises beyond imagination?

And somewhere 

in the mystery of all this, God is,

present in what is,

a body broken for us.